


Dream Lover

by Ulan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 10:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18408518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/pseuds/Ulan
Summary: Five times Erestor dreamt of a lover (and the one time he was not dreaming).





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Erestor dreams he has a boyfriend. The idea made me cackle out loud and I knew I just had to write this down.

The first time it happened, Erestor dreamt of a dimly lit hallway. Candlelight flickered from the sconces that lined the walls, the spaces of one to the next far in between and just enough to light one's steps. He recognised the place and knew it was the hallway that led to the council members' private quarters. 

Only, it was a strange thing. He did not seem to be walking on his own, and true enough each sconce on the left wall passed before his eyes from right to left after every few steps. He was warm though where he was, tucked in a secure embrace—for surely that was where he was, with the shape of strong arms around him and a softly breathing chest beside his ear. 

"Almost there. Just go back to sleep."

This came to him as a quiet whisper, heard only because no other noise disturbed the private hallway. Not even the other's footfalls made any noise. 

Just as they turned a corner, Erestor felt those arms tighten around him, holding him closer. 

They were soon at his door, the familiar patterns on the wall cluing him to where they were. Some more time passed, and next he knew he was on his bed, carefully being tucked in. His eyes still felt heavy and so he let it all happen, unable even to suppress the yawn that came over him. 

He felt a gentle weight press on his hair. It took a moment, but eventually he realised that it was a kiss that had just been placed upon his head; again, oddly, he did not protest this. 

"You always overwork yourself," came that voice again. It was deep and familiar, and when the other shifted, Erestor recognised the fall of golden hair that came into his view. A gentle hand caressed his cheek, brushed away the hair that fell over his eyes. There was a quiet laugh. "And yet you insist on waking. Sleep, Erestor." 

The voice was firm, yet also... tender, for lack of something better to describe it. Its tone and cadence were kind, intimate, and it lulled Erestor back to slumber, his eyes instinctively falling in response. His obedience was rewarded with soft lips on his forehead, then on his cheek, the latter a little firmer and lingering. Not to be neglected, his other cheek enjoyed the light caress of a thumb. 

"Good night and sweet dreams, darling one."


	2. Under the Cherry Trees

Needless to say, after that first night, Erestor had a difficult time looking Glorfindel in the eye.

It was terribly impolite, after all, to have such dreams for a colleague. Worse even was the fact that he and Glorfindel were becoming something like good friends of late, at least so Erestor thought, Elrond's constant side-eyeing suggesting something more notwithstanding.

So, sure, Glorfindel was an attractive guy. Erestor was probably not the first Elf to have ever had an errant fantasy about him. 

After Imladris was completed, many Elves from Lindon began to move there. Sometime, somehow, Gil-galad bade his Valar-sent warrior to guard their new eastern realm, and so with a company of other Elves who longed for mountain winds, Glorfindel set out and led them to Imladris. 

Also somehow, the empty room beside Erestor's was awarded to their new captain. That was how Erestor found that he and Glorfindel had similar routines, more often than not meeting along the corridors while everyone else still slept, both dressed and ready for the day. It also helped that Glorfindel was amiable and friendly, greeting Erestor always with a smile that only served to light an already bright and open face. 

They began to grow familiar with each other that way. Soon enough, the meetings and greeting extended to when they crossed each other's paths in the hallway, when they met in the fields, or when they see each other in council. Eventually, Glorfindel invited Erestor for a drink in the Hall of Fire, and they talked of things that were of interest to them, of which they learned they shared many. Soon enough, they were listening to music together, playing chess, exchanging book titles. 

And so Erestor figured, they were friends. Glorfindel trusted him enough to spend time in Erestor's company. It was why it really would not do for Erestor to breach such trust, allowing himself to be distracted by the contents of silly dreams that caught him in the evenings unawares. 

Fortunately, his sleep was free of dreams for some days after that one night. The rest of winter passed uneventfully, and Erestor was beginning to think that it was a one-off thing, a rare and merely unfortunate happenstance. 

But just when he thought he was in the clear, he caught Glorfindel in one of the aisles in the library. The captain truly painted a handsome picture—head bowed in concetration in his book, golden hair in loose waves down his back, his profile bathed in morning light. From the window behind him were blooming cherry trees, and Erestor thought: _Oh, spring suited him._

Then, as though Glorfindel sensed him there, he turned. And there in the quiet library, with the colours of spring all around him, Glorfindel smiled.

That was perhaps what got Erestor.

*

"'The Feast had been in mid-winter, but it was now June, and the night was hardly dark at all. The boy got up before dawn, for he did not wish to sleep: it was his tenth birthday.'"

The voice that Erestor woke to was deep but spoke softly, the words crisp and clear, perfect for storytelling. Erestor immediately recognised the words, remembering them from a charming book of stories he read long ago.

He blinked awake. Oh, sweet Mandos. Was Glorfindel _reading_ to him?

When Erestor lifted his eyes, he saw the pink-white blooms of a cherry tree swaying and raining soft petals around them from overhead. Glorfindel continued reading above him, which was how Erestor realised how they were positioned—Glorfindel sitting, and with Erestor himself lying on the grass, his head on Glorfindel's lap.

Erestor cursed his traitorous mind. How indulgent was it going to push these dreams? It even betrayed to Irmo one of his deeply secret pleasures, one so secret and so rarely indulged that it was almost a romantic fantasy. 

And Glorfindel's _voice._ By the Valar, if he did not already have his hands full with the protection of Eriador, he could make a living reading to lonely bachelors and spinsters at the plaza.

"'He looked out of the window, and the world seemed quiet and expectant. A little breeze, cool and fragrant, stirred the waking trees.'" 

That was about the time when Erestor noticed the hand on his—that was, more specifically, the hand _playing_ with his. Fingers were laced with his own, and they were not as sword-worn as he would have expected them to be. A thumb brushed lightly along the skin at the back of Erestor's hand, made the area tingle with the stimulation. But it did not linger there; as though armed with the confidence of a long-time lover ( _how_ though, thought Erestor), that hand squeezed and plucked at Erestor's, each finger paid attention to in turn, as though it was loath to neglect a single one.

"'Then the dawn came, and far away he heard the dawn-song of the birds beginning, growing as it came towards him, until it rushed over him, filling all the land round the house, and passed on like a wave of music into the West, as the sun rose above the rim of the world.' Is their West the same as ours? All the same, they have charming stories, don't they?" 

Erestor looked up and met sparkling blue. Glorfindel had eyes like clear morning skies, and his smile lit his face with sunlight. He was so painfully handsome that it should be despicable, but alas, perhaps he was so attractive that he was already past irritating and was merely... unreal. He inspired disbelief. Erestor had not the heart to dislike him. 

"Perhaps not exactly as we know it, but they have some idea of it," Erestor heard himself say. "I am not strict with the details when it comes to their stories. Anyway, they provide a good break once in a while. There are days when one just wants to slow down, and books such as these are delightful company." 

"Hmm." 

The little book in Glorfindel's hand closed. The grass beneath him shifted, and suddenly Erestor's world was covered in sunlit gold. Glorfindel had bent down, golden hair falling around Erestor's head like a curtain providing privacy, and there in that unexpectedly intimate space, soft lips pressed upon his. 

Glorfindel kissed like he smiled. He moved slowly, gently. He brought with him the scent of the forest and wild blooms and other things Erestor could not place, but were perhaps a mix of things that Glorfindel used on himself, as well as things that were just naturally Glorfindel. Erestor found himself deeply breathing it all in, arching up to this kiss that was sweet and perfect—because of course, this being his dream, it just had to be. 

"I find that the company today is already delightful, book or no book." The words were mumbled against his lips, and Erestor felt more than saw the smile there. It pulled an answering smile from him. 

"Sweet-talker," he said, though his cheeks were warm from the compliment. 

"You think so?" Instead of Glorfindel pulling up, more kisses were placed on Erestor's lips. They started out playful, a series of pecks that had Erestor's smile widening, and when Glorfindel had him how he wanted him, he kissed Erestor more slowly, in a way that was more lingering, lips brushing and pulling at lips. "There is more where that came from."

The words crawled down to Erestor's toes. That, with the kiss, had him warm in a way he had not felt in a long time. 

Before he knew it, his arms had wrapped around Glorfindel's head. His fingers buried under that thick golden hair, pulling him closer. His neck arched up to Glorfindel, lifting himself in turn, and once again he felt the other's smile before a tongue finally slipped between his lips, coaxing them to part.

Oh. This was a problem.


	3. Right or Wrong

"We should not be doing this."

It was late evening. They were in Erestor's office this time, but it did not seem as though much work was being done. 

Erestor found himself pinned against the side of his desk. A warm weight was pressed in front of him, one particularly tall and—oh yes, that indeed was solid muscle in those arms framing Erestor's sides. Not to mention, there was a delicious set of firm pectorals against which Erestor's hands rested. 

"Why not?" The words were whispered directly to his ears. Hot breath stirred the air along Erestor's neck and the sensitive shell of his ear, making him shiver.

"This is wrong, Glorfindel." 

Oh, thank the Valar. It seemed that this version of himself had enough sense in him to protest this. 

"How is this wrong?" Insistent lips seized his and—oh. _Oh,_ yes, he did kiss rather well, didn't he? Lips and tongue coaxed Erestor's mouth to open, licking along the seams and then inside it, so that although Erestor fought valiantly to keep his wits, he could almost feel his mind melting away.

"Glorfindel, I--"

His head was then pulled back, his neck exposed to almost forcefully hot kisses. Glorfindel kissed with his mouth open, hot breath blowing at the wet trails his tongue left behind, teeth scraping skin here and there. Erestor had forgotten how sensitive his neck was, so long had it been, and he all but mewled at the attention being showered upon it now. 

Blue eyes glinted up at him in the candlelight. "You do not know how long I have wanted this." 

Glorfindel shifted, and with it pressed a muscled thigh between Erestor's legs. Erestor gasped as it brushed deliciously against his cock, pleasure spiking up his back and making him arch up to that touch, wanting more. Glorfindel indulged him, hands sliding down to cup Erestor's backside, pulling him to rub harder against his thigh. Glorfindel swallowed the moan that followed, his own moan as though encouraging Erestor and willing him to take more of this pleasure so generously offered.

Those large hands did not stay idle. They went to the ties in front of Erestor's robe, making quick work of it so his front was soon exposed. Erestor's head fell back as fingers tweaked at his nipples, pebbling in the night air like the wanton things that they were. He could feel his vision dimming, eyes half-lidded and staring unseeing at the ceiling as his voice caught in his throat. Wicked fingers flicked at his nipples back and forth, the pads of them just brushing at the tips until Erestor's arms gave way, weakened by that onslaught, and he fell on his back against lacquered wood. 

"Aah, sweet Erestor." Glorfindel ran the back of his fingers down Erestor's chest, eliciting a gasp as they brushed pink nipples already sensitised from the earlier play. Those fingers moved further down, along the lines of a heaving abdomen, tracing curves of jutting bone. Glorfindel was all but looming over Erestor now, leaning on one hand beside Erestor's head as the other continued its quest downward. "Am I making you feel good?" 

He pulled out another gasp, as this time those fingers brushed against the stiff cock already curved heavily against Erestor's abdomen. Erestor arched up again, lip between his teeth, as he felt those fingers trace along the underside and up to the head. A thumb rubbed at the slit, making Erestor flush when he felt that he was already slick and probably leaking there. It truly had been too long, and Glorfindel was so good with his hands, his mouth, and--

"You look so good like this." 

Elbereth, that voice. And _those eyes_ , when they looked appraisingly at his fingers wet from Erestor's cock—when they slid up slowly, heavy and predatory, holding Erestor's gaze as those fingers lifted to Glorfindel's mouth and were promptly sucked in, tongue coming out to lick them clean.

Erestor could have sworn he had forgotten how to breathe. "Oh... merciful Eru." 

Glorfindel actually smirked at him. "Wrong name, my darling."

It was a whirlwind after that, hot breaths and long shadows flickering against the walls of Erestor's office. Glorfindel's mouth was on his again, his kiss deep and filthy and shooting bolts of pleasure straight down to Erestor's cock. This Glorfindel took care of, too, his hand wrapping around Erestor's cock and pumping it _just right_ , squeezing, pulling, up and down and twisting his wrist at the head in the exact way Erestor liked. 

Erestor fell apart in that embrace, Glorfindel's kisses not even enough anymore to drown out his voice. He cried out in a way that was unmistakeable should anyone be passing by in the halls. Anyway, it did not seem as though Glorfindel minded the noise, judging by the dirty words he growled into Erestor's ear ("Gorgeous, what you do to me... next time I will be inside you"), and the fact that Erestor soon felt the warmth of his release, spilled upon Erestor's skin.


	4. Long Days

Erestor had his face buried in his hands. 

It was not a good look for a counsellor—least of all the _chief counsellor_ —but it could not be helped. Better this than the perpetual blush he could feel on his face for the past couple of days. 

Did he truly just dream about sleeping with Glorfindel? Did he truly, upon waking in the morning, realise he was stiff underneath his sheets, painfully so that it pulled his hand to slip beneath the covers, and did he then just use a good friend as fodder for his sexual release?

Truly? At his age?

"Not feeling well, Erestor?" 

Erestor actually jumped in his seat upon hearing that voice— _that voice_ , which he could still hear saying such filthy things in his ears. That there was a hand on his shoulder did not help, at all, because the moment Erestor looked at it and remembered what it did to him--

 _It was a dream,_ Erestor reminded himself, nearly gritting his teeth in his vehemence. 

The real Glorfindel meanwhile was looking at him oddly. "Apologies," he said, something on Erestor's face seeming to make him pull back and lift his hands in a gesture of peace. "Only, is it just me or have I not been seeing you around of late?" 

There was a very good reason for that, but it was not something Erestor would be able to explain without losing much dignity. 

Fortunately, before he had to answer, the rest of the council had just entered the room. The meeting room doors closed behind them, announcing that the day's session was about to begin. Erestor returned a half-hearted apology and bade Glorfindel to sit. 

Unfortunately, Glorfindel still had that worried look on his face, and he actually sat on the seat beside Erestor. Once settled, he leaned in close again. 

"My guess is you are overworking yourself again, Counsellor. I have a good bottle still from my last trip to Lórinand, and would not mind a restful evening myself." He made to pull back, but then leaned in again, as though he had missed to say something else. "That is, only if you wish for company. If you will find rest better if you were alone, I completely understand. We can save the bottle for next time." 

It was something that Erestor liked so much about him. Glorfindel was both respectful and thoughtful, never intruding on Erestor's space and seemingly sensitive to his needs. He was also generous with gifts, or at least seemed to enjoy sharing, inviting Erestor for drinks he often was the one providing. 

These are things that were true about him, which some sadistic thing inside Erestor thought to remind him. Even if his dreams did not prove true, even if they were not as compatible in bed—or any horizontal surface as the case may be, his traitorous mind supplied—something told Erestor that Glorfindel would still make a wonderful lover. Whoever would have him would be lucky.

*

"Still not feeling well?"

Glorfindel this time asked the question with the soft afternoon light behind him. 

They were in Erestor's private rooms. Erestor was sitting on the bed, and Glorfindel was on one knee in front of him. Sunlight streamed in from the open windows, bouncing off the reds and the dark wood in Erestor's room. 

A sun-kissed hand lifted up to lightly brush a finger along Erestor's cheek. "You still look a little pale. Take this." 

A cup was pushed into his hand, its heat seeping into Erestor's palms, warming them. The fragrant smell of the citron and honey tea that Erestor favoured wafted up to his nose, and from that alone he already felt the tension on his shoulders giving way. 

Erestor was wearing his favourite burgundy robe, old and well-worn that the fabric had gone thin and soft. The colour had already faded from long use, but Erestor so loved it that he still used it in private whenever he had the chance, even if he knew that it was no longer in any decent state for polite company. 

That he wore it now, with Glorfindel in the room, somehow felt more intimate than anything these dreams had been able to conjure. 

"Scoot up, darling."

There was that pet name again. Erestor got the sense that he was growing used to it. It flowed out of Glorfindel's mouth naturally, and it reached Erestor as though he, too, was familiar with it. 

Once Erestor had drunk its contents, Glorfindel took the cup and laid it quietly on the bedside table. Hands then slid down Erestor's calves, his ankles, pulled the slippers from his feet and let them drop to the floor. 

The breath caught in Erestor's throat at the first press of thumb on the sole of his foot. It then escaped as a hushed moan as that pressure did not relent, and only moved up along the arch. Glorfindel kept up the massage with both hands, one thumb over the other until he was pressing on Erestor's toes, flexing and pulling at the joints.

The intimacy of the thing, as well as the relaxed atmosphere of the place, left no room for doubt: they were lovers even here. Glorfindel's touch was careful but familiar, his care not brought by self-conscious distance, but by his affection for Erestor. Never in Erestor's life had he felt so cherished. 

In his half-conscious mind watching things from afar, Erestor could sense the tightening in his chest. Glorfindel moved to his other foot, bestowed upon it the same care, and somewhere at the back of Erestor's mind, he mourned the fact that this was all a dream. 

How sweet this lover was, how kind and good to him. His kiss here, too, when he was done and he smiled up at Erestor and gave it, was sweet and wonderful. Erestor found himself leaning into that kiss, seeking to deepen it and perhaps—just perhaps—convince Glorfindel to go for more. 

Like in the other dreams, Glorfindel here was generous and indulgent. He wrapped his arms around Erestor, and when he pushed Erestor to bed, Erestor went with it, yielding to him with his arms wide open. 

When Erestor woke up the next morning, he just stared at the canopy of his bed. There was a heavy feeling in his chest, one he could not shake off even as he went through his day. 

And when later he saw a flash of gold at the end of the hallway, his feet stopped on their own. They then made him turn at a corner, moving him to a different direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to Saviobriion for the fluff suggestion for this chapter (not to mention a certain well-loved house robe that made it into the story), and to Welcome_Remark for being the good boy who inspired the scene in the first place, doing these sort of sweet and memorable things in real life. Y'all are just too sweet. :D


	5. Watching the Stars

By now, Erestor was no longer even surprised whenever the dreams came. 

They stood at one of the balconies of the main house, and by the light of the Moon it seemed it was rather late, perhaps a little after dinner time. It was late autumn and the air upon Erestor's face was chill, but everywhere else he was warm, for Glorfindel stood behind him, holding him close. 

Above them were laid the stars of Elbereth. Their familiar patterns were spread before their eyes—Nahar just above them, and a little below him, the profile of Nienna, and off to the side, a fish of Ulmo's. Erestor used to love looking at them, remembering them all by name; now, he could not even remember the last time he had done so.

"'Tis a lovely evening," said Glorfindel. Speaking just beside Erestor's ear, he kept his voice low and it rumbled pleasantly from his chest to Erestor's back pressed against it. "I know you used to tell me all their names, but I have never been good at remembering them." 

Erestor huffed out a laugh. "I know you are not, which is why we are just simply looking at them now."

There was an answering laugh in his ear. Glorfindel always had the most delightful laugh, especially in private—low, humble and quiet. Though no matter how brief, they lit up his eyes and put a healthy flush on his cheeks. When Erestor turned to look at him, these things were still true in this dream. 

"You are lovely this evening, too." These words were said along with those arms tightening around him. Glorfindel's face came close, and he nuzzled Erestor's cheek, a smile on his face, eyes closed in a look of contentment. "You are warm in my arms and I am blissfully in love. Around us it is as though the stars are twinkling brighter."

The words warmed Erestor's heart as well as his face, which he ducked down in a sudden bout of shyness. It did not last long, for in the next moment he breathed courage in (or was it madness?), and thus armed he turned in the circle of those arms. 

He looked up at Glorfindel's face. If he once thought there was no way he could find the other more beautiful than he already did, he was proven wrong now. Apparently, Glorfindel looked at a lover with a clear and open expression, and whether his blue eyes were softened by love or merely the low light, Erestor no longer had an unbiased mind to say. Either way, he looked at Erestor as though there was no else in the world. 

"Were it that you were real," Erestor heard himself say. His hands moved to cup Glorfindel's face, who, though he turned his cheek to Erestor's palm, also looked at him with bemusement.

"What do you mean?"

Erestor watched, words caught in his throat, as Glorfindel nuzzled at the palm of his hand and pressed his soft lips at the centre. His skin tingled where it was kissed, heated further by Glorfindel's sweet exhales, and suddenly Erestor found it difficult to breathe. 

"You are perfect," he said, not with but a bit of wonder. "And I confess to watching you everyday. Ever since you came I have noticed you, but so has many others. This I know, but all the same you brighten my day in a way I have not known in a long time." Perhaps it was because he was in the safety of his dreams that Erestor could finally admit all these things. But then, it was precisely because this was a dream, that hope within him was ever dim. "Alas, it is all for naught. Back where I am from, you do not love me."

Glorfindel shook his lovely golden head. "How can that be so? How is there a world where I am not completely yours?" 

Oh, how indeed? It was downright cruel that the Children were made with such capacity to love, for happiness to be gained only when it was returned, and then to make the world as though it unfolded by sheer luck and unsympathetic chances. The odds of love being returned were bleak indeed. 

"It is just so," said Erestor. Somewhere inside him, something mourned the bitter truth.

Next thing he knew, his chin was lifted up, and his lips were once again warmed by those soft lips covering his. "I cannot bear the sadness in your eyes," said Glorfindel. He continued to kiss Erestor even as he spoke, so that their lips brushed together so sweetly. Erestor could not help but stretch his neck up to him more. "If it is in my power to give, I would comfort you every time I am given the chance. I am yours, Erestor. I am yours always, if you would but have me. For I would wait for as long as it takes, if just once you would say that you are also mine."

Oh, Erestor, what a foolish thing you are. Are these the things your mind conjures when left vulnerable in your sleep? For all that he was known for his mind, for all the sharpness of his wit, in the end, he was just as every other fool to have ever fallen in love. 

"I am yours, Glorfindel." The words, when they came, were both liberating and painful. "I am yours."


	6. (+1) Am I Still Dreaming?

Erestor must have fallen asleep in his office again. 

The lights moved past his eyes again, right to left. The hallways were dim, as they ever were late in the evening, shadows casted against the wall in between the line of sconces. 

His vision was not yet entirely clear, overcome as he was with lethargy and that heavy, twisting sensation in his chest. It was as though something held vice-like on to his heart, but then, having just had the dream he had, it was perhaps only to be expected. 

He blinked slowly. He lifted his eyes, and in his sleepy haze he thought he recognised a familiar wave of gold, near shining at the edges where they caught the light. In his ear was a steady heartbeat, his nose recognising a dearly beloved scent, and it felt warm where he was.

"Am I still dreaming?"

There was a pause, the footsteps of the one carrying him faltering for a moment. Then, a soft laugh. "What do you mean 'still'? Do you dream of me, Erestor?"

If he were more awake, Erestor would have known to deny it. In fact, if he truly were awake, Erestor would have jumped out of those arms, perhaps sputtered his way out of an awkward situation. But he was barely out of Irmo's hold, so instead of all these things, he tucked his head closer to that source of warmth, nuzzling close. 

It could be that he was in between wakefulness and sleep, for surely he was dreaming when he felt a kiss upon his head. It pressed there for quite a while, and he thought the air stirred with the sound of a sigh.

*

When he came to again, there was daylight streaming in from the windows. Only, they were coming from a different direction, and the patterns on the wall were unfamiliar to him.

Erestor was immediately awake. He threw the covers away from himself—for whose covers _were_ these—and looked down at himself. His robes were still his robes of office that he wore the evening prior, which was an odd thing. 

"Erestor, go back to sleep."

Erestor started at the voice behind him. He felt the blood drain from his face, and he feared to confirm where he thought he was.

"Where-- Is this your--"

There was a sudden tug on his sleeves, and so unexpected was it and so tensely was Erestor sitting that he easily lost his balance. He fell on waiting arms, however, and the covers were pulled up and over him.

"My room, yes," said Glorfindel—for indeed it was Glorfindel. "Your door was locked last night. It usually is not when I bring you there. No matter, though. Just please settle down, for I slept late last night."

There was a thousand different things that flashed through Erestor's mind, too many to figure out what first to say. He therefore spent an embarrassing amount of time just opening his mouth with no words escaping, up until finally, one thought remained. 

"What do you mean my door usually is not locked?" he asked, unable to believe that the other even knew this. "How many times have you had to check? How-- how many times--"

"Have I carried you to bed?" Glorfindel rolled on his back so his eyes were to the ceiling, one hand resting in the middle of his brows. "A few times, when I pass by your office late in the evening and catch you sleeping." He paused, but something in the way he did told Erestor there was something else the other was thinking of to say. "Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"

However colourful his thoughts and mood had been, nothing but mortification was left in Erestor now. His eyes closed shut and he pressed the heels of his palms there for good measure, for nothing, _nothing_ in recent memory had him feeling more unbalanced than this. "What... have you heard me say?" 

"You know... this and that." The bed once again dipped and shifted, but Erestor was yet too horrified to open his eyes to look at what was happening. He endured it when Glorfindel laughed—he would give it to him, for it was not everyday that a supposedly respectable high official was ever caught betraying his deepest, darkest fantasies _to the very subject of said fantasies._

Glorfindel, however, spoke again. "Oh, darling. What are you thinking about?"

 _That right now would be a good time to sail,_ was Erestor's immediate thought. His ears perked up upon realising something though, which also had him hesitantly pulling down the hands covering his eyes. 

He looked at Glorfindel, who was up on his elbow, facing Erestor. "Is this the first time you have called me that?"

There was a long pause before Glorfindel answered. "While you are awake, you mean?" 

Erestor could only blink at him, surprised by this unexpected revelation. 

A smile grew on Glorfindel's face, just a small one. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and the feature made him look boyish somehow, and oddly timid as he ducked his head down. His fingers began to play at the edge of the covers. 

"I was growing worried. I thought you were avoiding me, and I did not know why." He laughed, but it sounded unsure. "I worried you no longer liked my company, and for a long time I had to wrack my brain for what it was that I must have done to upset you."

Erestor did not know what to say to these things. Cheeks still burning, his eyes fell to the covers that Glorfindel was still worrying with his fingers. "I thought I was going out of my mind. I see you so often in my dreams." 

"Good things, I hope." The hand, slow and tentative, let go of the sheets and brushed carefully against Erestor's own hands, folded atop the covers. Erestor's cheeks burnt at the remembrance, at which point Glorfindel leaned in and peeked up at his face, promptly getting the other to jump back again. "Aah," said Glorfindel, with a knowing smile. "Exactly how good were they, Erestor?"

Erestor actually sputtered at this. "For all I know I have you to blame! If you were so often around, then it is no wonder that it is you I dream about."

Of course, one could be around as often as they wished, but the contents of one's dreams was not something that another could tamper with. 

It was fortunate that Glorfindel kindly did not point this out. "A happy accident, for I would not have you dream of anyone else," he said instead, and he did so even with a straight face. Once again, his expression softened, and this time he laid his hand on top of Erestor's and squeezed it. "Surely, you must know. I thought I have been so obvious. Only, I did not know if you were interested, for long have you led a solitary life. If it were not for the things I heard you say, I might not have had the courage nor the hope to take you here and think that perhaps it would be all right, when the chance came for me to do so."

"Please," begged Erestor, his words muffled by his hands, which he had pulled away from Glorfindel. "On the threat of my life, please never tell me what you heard me say." 

"But I am grateful for them," pressed Glorfindel. He spoke his words near Erestor's hands, his own having wrapped around Erestor's wrists, imploring him to show his face again. "Truly, I am, for even as far back as when I saw you walking the halls in Lindon, I have loved you."

This time, Glorfindel succeeded in pulling Erestor's hands away. Their eyes met, and when they did Glorfindel smiled such a smile that Erestor wondered if he was back in his dreams again. 

"Dare I believe the half-asleep Erestor I have carried in my arms? Do I have a chance with you?" 

How does one even answer such a question? How, exactly, when Erestor felt himself unable to speak, when mortification, disbelief, _joy_ warred within him in a dizzying medley? 

Oh, but he wanted to answer him. He wanted to tell Glorfindel how much he was wanted in return, how every day with him was as blissful as spring coming. But instead, all he could do was nod, once and even stilted. 

This nonetheless seemed to be enough, for he heard Glorfindel's sharp intake of breath, his sudden laugh, before arms moved to wrap around Erestor and hold him tight. 

" _Yes,_ " the golden one said, sounding as breathless and winded as Erestor felt. "Yes, so I do. I do have a chance with you. You do not know how happy this makes me, Erestor." 

Despite it all, the embarrassment and the guilt, the humiliation of being so transparent, Erestor found the joy in Glorfindel's voice seeping within him. 

"More than just a chance, I would say," he said against Glorfindel's clothed shoulder. 

This earned him a laugh again, and—oh, a kiss, pressed firmly on his lips and allowing no escape. He was pulled forward so that they fell in bed in a tangle of limbs, with Glorfindel beneath him and catching his fall. 

Glorfindel was all smiles and bright blue eyes as he looked up at Erestor. Golden hair tangled with Erestor's fingers were he propped himself up on the mattress—and what a wonder that was.

"Now really, you must tell me, for I am curious," said Glorfindel. He looked beautiful, ever a vision, but the expression on his face also made Erestor suspicious. He made to back away, but Glorfindel's grip around his waist was (delightfully) vice-like. "How good are these dreams? Because the other day, I thought I heard--"

"I said to never mention it again, Glorfindel!" 

Glorfindel's laugh was muffled behind Erestor's hands, but not for long, for it seemed as though the other's joy would not allow for taming. His sweet laughter filled the walls of the room and danced in Erestor's ears, so that even with his cheeks aflame, Erestor could not help but laugh with him, too.


End file.
